


To Tame a King

by ChelseaDear



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Boba's caught feelings, Bondage, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, M/M, Mouth Fucking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29914374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelseaDear/pseuds/ChelseaDear
Summary: Had he still the ability to think, he might realize that he had no idea when this whole thing had started; he may even consider that there was no true beginning to this, no point in either of their lives they could look back on and say,Yes, this was when this thing between us started.As it was, he'd lost the ability to bring an entire thought into coherent territory, nonetheless string two thoughts together.He'd come back from a hunt feeling too wild, almost feral; he'd acted like he answered to nobody, the King of the damned Mandalorians, uncontrolled and untouchable.Boba had been quick to fix that.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Comments: 7
Kudos: 183





	To Tame a King

Had he still the ability to think, he might realize that he had no idea when this whole thing had started; he may even consider that there was no true beginning to this, no point in either of their lives they could look back on and say, _Yes, this was when this thing between us started._

As it was, he'd lost the ability to bring an entire thought into coherent territory, nonetheless string two thoughts together.

He'd come back from a hunt feeling too wild, almost feral; he'd acted like he answered to nobody, the King of the damned Mandalorians, uncontrolled and untouchable.

Boba had been quick to fix that.

It started as a fight; it always started with a fight, not one of words but one of traded blows, too hard and with too much feeling behind them to be a sparring match.

Boba had subdued Din; Boba always subdued Din. Din could have blamed it on a number of things any time he wound up like this. It might have been that Boba had more energy, the nature of a hunt held against the nature of spending most of one's time seated, politicking, the contrast between their lives a sharp thing. Or perhaps it was that this was _Boba's territory,_ the palace halls haunted by Boba's ghosts, not Din's.

But, really, it had been the moment Boba had pinned him to the floor, tell-tale bulge pressing against Din, the promise it held disarming Din more efficiently than any weapon had ever managed.

“Good boy,” Boba murmured when Din stopped struggling against Boba's weight.

They laid like that for a moment, Boba's bulge pressing against Din's ass while the rest of him _enveloped_ Din, eclipsed him entirely, and Din _melted_ a goddamned mess _already._ Boba began grinding against Din, the slow rhythm he was setting a pantomime of what they were both after.

Boba stood like it was nothing and hauled Din to his feet by the fucking _jet pack,_ the thing staying in place like it was more inclined to listen to Boba than its owner.

But that was the point, wasn't it? No matter how much freedom Din had on a hunt, so long as he kept coming back here at the end of it, he was _Boba's._

Boba grabbed him by the back of the neck like he was an ill-tempered massiff whelp and hauled him to Boba's quarters, far from where even the boldest of challengers would dare to seek the New King in Jabba's Palace.

No sooner than they were both inside the rooms, Boba threw him onto the floor, sent him sprawling. The impact forced damned near all the air out of his lungs and it _burned_ to inhale again.

He hadn't finished taking a deep breath before Boba hauled him to his knees and started undoing the straps that secured his armor.

“And what do you say if you need me to stop?” Boba asked before he removed the first piece.

“Mand'alor,” Din knew the word, knew it could be shortened to _alor_ is two syllables were too many to manage.

The irony of the safeword hadn't been lost on him.

“Good boy,” Boba resumed stripping him of his armor. There was no care to the undoing, only to how Boba placed each piece aside; Boba knew what Din's armor meant, understood what _harm_ at would do to Din to see his armor placed separate from his body without the utmost care. And, really, this was never about harming Din – had never been about harming Din.

But, oh, could Boba make Din _hurt_ without causing any actual harm.

Din stayed there, stayed on his knees, armor digging into his shins while Boba freed him of everything above his kneecaps.

“Up,” Boba's command was a short, snapping thing that had Din on his feet on a heartbeat – unsteady, wavering, like he might fall but Boba's next command, a barked, “Get yourself naked,” gave Din back just enough focus to follow the command, to be a _good boy._

“Eager,” Boba huffed, a laugh playing just behind the forced indifference., “Look at you,” Boba circled Din slowly as Din struggled to stay upright long enough to get the last of his armor off so he could shed his blacks, the praise and the _attention_ almost too much already.

Boba's footfalls receded and Din knew he'd taken too long. If he hadn't succeeded in stripping himself by the time Boba returned, he'd be tied up as-is, no help, no mercy.

He managed it, somehow, managed to leave every inch of himself exposed just in time.

“You're getting slow,” Boba sounded far too close to _disappointed,_ “You're going to get on your hands an knees, then you're going to bow so your ass is in the air,” he told Din and added, “ _Quickly._ ”

Din went back down to his knees and fell forward more than went into a crawling position before lowering his shoulders, so hungry, so desperate.

Boba chuckled, a low sound that was more of a warning than an approval.

He knelt down behind Din and Din heard the tell-tale little click of a bottle being opened.

The lube was _cold_ against Din's skin as Boba made sure he'd used enough to make his first finger's careful prod a smooth thing. Din whined, the knowing that _more_ was coming making him needy, leaving him wanting.

“Eager,” Boba repeated, the same laughter just behind the word. He _did_ laugh when Din nodded, told him, “Little slut,” he admonished as he added a second finger and began to work Din open.

Din tried to press back, tried to get more of Boba inside of him. For this effort, Boba smacked him with the back of his hand, hard, right on the hip and Din let out a little whimper.

“No,” Boba _was_ disappointed this time, his fingers inside of Din stilling completely, “This isn't about you.”

Din shivered and bit down on his own wrist to keep from crying out as Boba dragged his fingernails over the just-struck spot.

“Spit that out,” Boba told him, “You don't know where that's been.”

Din nearly protested that he _did_ know where his own wrist had been, but the little sliver of his mind that was still clear reminded him that he'd already disappointed Boba once tonight.

Din stopped biting down on himself and turned his face so his creek was against the teeth-shaped indentations in his skin.

“Good boy,” Boba purred just before he started working Din open again and Din could have _sobbed,_ “There we go, dear heart.”

Din's head was lost in a haze as Boba worked him open, deft fingers drawing out all sorts of sounds. The force of Boba's efforts kept driving him forward, testing Din's commitment to not backing up again, even to keep his balance.

Boba worked a third finger in and Din heard himself _shout,_ a wordless thing, and he tried to use his knees to keep himself from flattening himself on the ground and failed, his weight on his cock bordering on _painful_.

“My perfect little fuck toy,” Boba's voice snapped Din's attention back to him, “So eager to be fucked, aren't you?”

Din nodded.

“Let me hear you, pet,” the laugh was just behind Boba's words again, telling Din his disappointment had faded into obscurity.

“Yes,” Din managed.

“Yes?” Boba asked.

“Sir,” Din rushed to amend, “Yes, sir.”

“Mmhmm, and?” Boba still sounded amused despite that being his second prompt in a row.

“I'm your perfect little fuck toy, sir,” Din managed, each word crashing into the next.

“Good boy,” Boba said as he withdrew his fingers. Din _keened,_ a reedy, almost mournful sound that was cut off when Boba started inserting a plug.

Din could feel his chest heaving with quick breaths that couldn't seem to draw in enough air, whimpering and whining and _mewling_. He shuddered when he felt the thing stop moving, its flared base pressed against him and _oh,_ he knew this toy, knew this was the one just about Boba's size, knew Boba meant to fuck him at the end of this, knew that the only mercy Boba would offer him was whatever sort of _practice_ the plug left in him when Boba swapped it for his own cock.

Boba leaned over Din's back, cock warm against Din's thigh, to grab Din by the back of the neck and haul him to his feel like a damned _rag doll._

No matter how many times Boba did that to him, it always left him breathless, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, every inch of him unable to prepare for the sensation. He'd cried out this time, a sharp thing that took him by surprise.

“Din,” Boba's voice was gentle, close, leaving the _are you alright_ unspoken; Din knew it was there, the depth of Boba's care towards Din a thing too-large and too-terrifying for either of them to bring into focus while Boba was using Din as a fuck toy.

“Good,” Din panted, “Good for you,” he tried more words, unsure of they made any sense.

“Good boy,” Boba held Din against him, warm, comforting, Boba's breath on his neck a familiar, comforting thing.

Despite Din's assurance he was good, Boba guided him towards the bed slowly, eased him back down to his knees rather than shoving him down at the side of the bed before circling around to stand front of Din.

“You know what comes next, yes, pet?” Boba caught Din's chin on the side of a curled index finger, forced him to make eye contact.

“Yes, sir,” Din's eyes were wide, unfocused, almost glassy.

Boba chuckled, a rumbling sound Din swore he felt in his bones.

“Stay,” Boba instructed as he released Din's chin.

Din stayed as Boba's footfalls receded and returned.

Boba started with Din's ankles, the rope rough against his skin as Boba began binding him.

Din stayed as still as he could, the anticipation of what was to come making him tremble. Boba's hands were deft, so sure of themselves. 

Boba tested each knot before he moved on to build the next, binding Din's ankles, then his thighs, then his wrists, then his chest and shoulders, pinned Din's arms to his sides before connecting his wrists' bindings to those of his shoulders. He kept the ropes so tight, pulled every bit of Din's body impossibly taut. His back arched and his shoulders pulled back. Like this, he could feel the plug pressing against his insides, the sensation discomforting, almost sharp.

Any attempt to take some mercy on his spine or his innards was rewarded with a fierce burning sensation, the ropes doing their damnedest to rub away at his skin as they tightened themselves, his lungs being constricted at the same time, air becoming a precious commodity should he seek a change in position.

So, too, would any effort to give his knees some reprieve, and so Din was stuck, forced to stay at the height that, when Boba decided it was time, Boba could fuck Din's mouth without having to move Din at all.

There was a shifting of fabric behind him, Boba's robes finally, _finally_ coming off.

Boba moved to sit in front of Din, his cock _just_ out of reach, teasing. Din licked his lips and Boba _laughed,_ a breathless thing that betrayed his surface indifference.

Din tried to lean forward, tried to steal _just a taste_ before the ropes hurt too much to lean forward any more and, when he failed to do so, Boba chuckled under his breath.

Din could feel the weight of Boba's stare like a blow, could feel the vulnerability inherent in this thing between them like a wound he knew was going to leave a scar in its wake.

Boba took a deep breath and Din could hear the way the thing shuddered in Boba's chest, could feel Boba's entire affect shift as he leaned forward to trace the back on one knuckle down Din's jawline.

“I don't think you understand what you do to me,” Boba murmured as he tilted Din's chin up just enough to look him in the eye, Boba's pupils wide and Din's waterline shining, “Do you think you understand?”

The only sound Din made was a sharp intake of air that made the ropes around his chest and shoulders dig into him, which in turn drew a sharp, short cry from Din, eyes closing reflexively.

And so, he missed the quick motion that offered him any sort of warning that Boba was about to strike him across the face.

“Answer me when I ask you a question,” Boba's voice was too calm, too steady for the way the single knuckle still holding Din's chin up _shook_ and Din _sobbed_ a heavy, dry thing whose movement made the ropes do horrible things to Din's skin.

“I don't,” Din managed, “I don't understand, sir!” Every word was panicked, sharp. Din wanted to shrink down and away, wanted to break contact because he suddenly felt like he didn't deserve it but he _fought back_ against that instinct, stayed kneeling tall, maintained eye contact despite knowing there were no secrets he'd be allowed to keep like this.

“Let me show you,” Boba snarled as he rose to his feet. He carded his fingers through Din's hair once, twice, Din's head rolling with the contact and on the third pass Boba grabbed Din's hair and _pulled._

Din's mouth fell open as Boba pulled his hair and Boba shoved his cock in without ceremony, held Din still by the hair – his other hand wrapped around the base of Din's skull to provide more reliable stability. Din nearly choked and Boba offered a quick, “Breathe through your nose, pet,” before he started to thrust.

Din tried to breathe through his nose, tried to stay still, tried to do a number of things and he must have succeeded because above him Boba was saying things like _so fucking perfect,_ and _look at you,_ and _best damned fuck toy I've ever had, _interspersed with _yes,_ and _oh,_ and Din's name over and over, the occasional, _fuck, Din, your tongue,_ and _so perfect for me_.__

__Din let his jaw hang open, let Boba fuck his goddamned _throat,_ could have spend the rest of his life like this if he could hear Boba say those things to him the entire time._ _

__Boba said his name again, different this time, and Din took a deep breath through his nose because he knew – he _knew_ – what was coming next._ _

__Boba came with a moan, his dick as far down Din's throat as he could manage, forced Din to swallow everything – as if Din wouldn't have done just that given the choice – before letting himself fall back into a seated position, one hand still tangled in Din's hair, dragging him forward. Din let out a strangled cry as the ropes bit into him, sharp, painful._ _

__Boba released Din immediately, sat up, eyes worried._ _

__“Good,” Din said as soon as he could say anything, “Good,” and the repetition seemed to ease the worst of Boba's concerns, the panic in his eyes softening into a well-guarded fondness._ _

__“Good,” Boba said, fondly, eyes still not quite back in focus, “So good for me.”_ _

__He reached behind Din to start releasing his bonds; most of them were rigged together, one tug to undo them in case Din ever _did_ use their safeword. _ _

__Din seemed to unravel with the rope, all the tension the rope held _gone_ , no trace left in Din's frame. He sat back, thighs to calves, tried to give his innards the same sense of relief with little success. He whined a little and Boba chuckled, cupped the side of his face with one hand and pressed their foreheads together._ _

__“Easy, dear heart,” Boba's voice reminded Din of the top-shelf liquor he had never been able to afford outright but had taken as private bounty from targets who wouldn't be coming back for it – a burn that left you wanting more, made you want to burn like that for the rest of your life, managed to get in-between the layers of your skin, the sensation all the sweeter for having _earned it_ rather than stolen it._ _

__Boba coaxed Din onto the bed, scooted back until his back was against the wall and Din's entire body was on the bed._ _

__“So fucking beautiful,” Boba purred, “You want to be fucked, pet?”_ _

__Din started to nod and caught himself, said, “I do, sir,” instead._ _

__“You know what you need to do, then,” Boba shifted so his shoulder blades took most of the weight of his upper body before he spread his legs, knees bent just enough to bracket Din as he crawled forward to take Boba's cock in his mouth again._ _

__Din sucked and licked and did his damnedest to coax Boba back to hardness._ _

__“Hungry, aren't you,” Boba murmured, one hand carding through Din's hair, earning small, muffled sounds of pleasure despite how Din was funneling any and all focus he could into making Boba hard again, “Always hungry for my cock,” Boba gave Din's hair a tug and Din _whined_ , “Thought so.”_ _

__Boba let his head fall back so it, too was supported by the wall, Din's every movement, every shift of his tongue, every graze of his teeth, all of it, all of _Din_ like a tiny little shock, his nerves pulsating with the _life_ Din seemed to know how to give him back._ _

__The rope burns Din had inflicted on himself by not doing what Boba expected of him were a shallow, angry red – no broken skin but it was a near thing and Din was going to be feeling them for _weeks._ Boba loved the sight, loved the way the freshness and relative harmlessness of them contrasted with all the scars Din had earned in a time where his universe had yet to collide with Boba's._ _

__Din's hands wrapped themselves under Boba's legs, his wrists at odd angles so his fingers could grip the backs of Boba's thighs and _squeezed,_ his fingers sinking into Boba's soft flesh. Boba heard the half-strangled cry that escaped his throat before he felt it, his shoulders jerking forward._ _

__“Din,” he leaned forward, his breaths coming in shallow, panting things, “Fucking hell, _ **Din**_!”_ _

__Din's eyes flicked upward, just long enough for Boba to see how _proud of himself_ Din was before Din's eyes fluttered closed and _oh,_ he was so fucking _beautiful_ , this Reluctant King who seemed to want nothing in the universe more than he wanted to hear Boba call him a good boy._ _

__Boba let himself fall back again, hit the wall with a soft _thunk_ , surrendered to whatever magic Din was doing with his fucking _tongue.__ _

__When he was hard again – finally, finally, damn price the years had demanded of his body – he _growled_ as he shoved Din backwards. Din gasped and his back arched for a moment before he curled forward just a bit so he could ease himself down rather than free-fall. Din _whined_ through the process and Boba realized the plug had to be making Din _ache.__ _

__“Flip over,” Boba's hunger was driving him, now, no longer concerned with making Din sit straight or listen._ _

__Just submission, now, peripherals be damned._ _

__Din seemed to rotate in place with a little whimper, braced himself on his elbows and stuck his ass in the air, needy, such a _gorgeous_ sight and Boba hummed, that same hum that Din felt in his _bones.__ _

__Boba rose to his knees, braced himself on Din's hips as he did so,_ _

__“What's your safe word?” Boba asked, dimly aware of his his hands had started to tremble._ _

__“Mand'alor,” Din sounded like he swallowed the word, “Nowhere near that, Sir.”_ _

__“Good,” Boba purred._ _

__He ran a hand from the base of Din's spine to his neck, palm flat and fingers splayed, slow, almost like he was worshiping whatever long-forgotten god had managed to rebuild its temple in the lining of Din's skin._ _

__At the base of Din's neck, he crew his hand up so it was just his finger tips touching Din before he dug his nails in and raked them back. Din's moan was _filthy._ Boba shuddered placed his palm on the small of Din's back, steady, hot, grounding._ _

__“I'm going to take your plug out,” Boba wasn't asking, “and then I'm going to fuck you like you're _nothing._ ”_ _

__Din _keened_ and Boba felt the last of his self-restraint crumble._ _

__Boba removed the plug, watched as Din's body let him do it, listened to Din's long, quiet, high-pitched that turned into a moan as his new-found emptiness was filled with Boba's cock._ _

__Boba steadied himself, let Din really _feel him_ , gripped Din's hips with bruising force. He let himself settle, let his stomach rest just on the small of Din's back, reveled in how _hot_ Din's skin was, the way it burned against him, knew in the morning there would be handprint-shaped bruises where he was gripping._ _

__Din whined and shifted and Boba, instead of correcting him, started to _move.__ _

__He fucked Din without thought of mercy in the form of making sure Din came, too. No, this wasn't about Din, not now, not tonight._ _

__Below him, Din had gone boneless, pliant, a cacophony of half-formed noises of pleasure._ _

__“So fucking perfect,” Boba's words were shaky things, punctured and broken with his thrusts, “Look at you, oh, fuck, Din-”_ _

__Din, hearing his name, _keened.__ _

__“My little fuck toy,” Boba's words were jagged things that caught themselves on the sharp edges of how Boba was breaking Din down, “Ah, fuck, oh, Din, Din, DinDinDinDinDin-”_ _

__Boba came again, buried inside Din to the hilt, moaning and twitching and only dimly aware he'd dug his nails into Din so hard he'd broken skin._ _

__Din moaned, too, pressed back into Boba, wanting _more,_ wanting to feel more of Boba as Boba filled him._ _

__Boba pried himself off of and out of Din slowly, carefully, his fingers damn near locked and hands trembling the instant they weren't touching Din._ _

__“Please,” Din whispered as he flattened himself. Boba made a soft sound caught between a sign, a hum, and a chuckle before he let himself fall forward, a controlled thing just a touch faster than a lean, let himself envelop Din._ _

__Boba felt just as boneless as Din, laying there like that, soaking in the warmth that was _Din_. He nuzzled into Din's hair, content, and Din made one of Boba's favorite sounds, the one that said _I feel safe like this_ without needing words._ _

__“Good?” Boba asked._ _

__“Very,” Din slurred the single word._ _

__“I don't want to crush your lungs,” Boba made no move to get up._ _

__“If I did I die,” Din seemed entirely unbothered._ _

__“I'd be disappointed,” Boba said because it seemed like a safer thing to say that _Don't you dare.__ _

__“What would make you not-disappointed?” Din asked, the question sounding like a barely-conscious thing, a fledgling reflex born of whatever this thing between them was, Din's desire to please Boba becoming a part of the hunter-King's very core sense of self._ _

__And, oh, what had Boba done with his life to deserve that level _love.__ _

__“Stay,” Boba told him, “Here, I mean. Stay here.”_ _

__“Okay,” Din agreed so quickly it seemed a thing that happened between heartbeats and stole all the breath from Boba's lungs._ _

__“Good boy,” was all Boba could say._ _

__They laid like that for a while, Boba on top of Din, the both of them basking in the afterglow._ _

__“Alright,” Boba's face was still nestled in Din's hair, “I'm going to get up, I'm going to get something to clean us both off, and then I'm going to put some salve on your rope burns, alright?”_ _

__“Yes, sir,” Din nodded and _oh,_ he was still in _that space,_ still looking to Boba for direction, for an anchor._ _

__“Good boy,” Boba said again before he extracted himself from Din. Din made a sad little sound as he did so, an unconscious thing, “It's alright, I'll only be gone a moment.”_ _

__He made good on that promise, rushed the cloth soaked in so-precious water._ _

__He cleaned Din off first, went as carefully and gently as he could. Din made little _ah_ sounds as Boba worked, tried to press into the cloth._ _

__“Greedy,” Boba admonished._ _

__“Only with you,” Din answered, another reflexive thing, a thought that had secured itself so firmly in Din's mind that he didn't need to go digging for it._ _

__Boba made a sound of approval and stroked Din's back a few times, slow, intentional strokes that made Din shiver._ _

__Boba was far less careful cleaning himself, rushed through the job to start tending the rope burns._ _

__He lover this part, loved seeing the ways Din was willing to mark himself as Boba's, loved the way Din made sounds of pain mixed with pleasure and Boba murmured things to him like _good boy,_ and _so perfect,_ and _easy,_ and _I've got you_ as Boba applied the cooling salve to Din's skin._ _

__“Can you roll over for me?” Boba asked._ _

__“Yeah,” Din managed, all his focus on getting himself to his hands and knees before he shifted so he was down again, on his side this time, and then finished rolling over. Din was still hard, cock heavy with precum all over the tip._ _

__“Good boy,” Boba told him as he repeated the process._ _

__When he was done, when he was sure all of Din's rope burns were tended, he set the salve aside and ran both hands down Din's size. Din whimpered and took a deep breath like if his lungs were full he could get _more_ from Boba's hands._ _

__“Oh look at you,” Boba purred, “Did you want to come, pet?”_ _

__“Please,” Din begged, “Please, sir, _please!_ ”_ _

__Boba grabbed Din's cock and started stroking it, slow, at first, used Din's pre-cum to slick it up as much as possible before picking up the pace until he was just as relentless in jerking Din off as he had been in fucking him._ _

__Din came with a cry and a full-body jerk towards Boba's hand._ _

__“Good boy,” Boba said as he slowed and then stopped, watched Din's chest heave as he breathed, eyes closed and hands gripping the bedding, “Look at you, so fucking perfect.”_ _

__Boba reached for the cloth again, cleaned Din once more and reapplied salve where it had been wiped off in the cleaning process._ _

__When he was done – truly done, this time – he laid on his back and coaxed Din over to him on all fours. Din flopped beside Boba, rolled on his side and nuzzled in, half-leaning on Boba's chest, rolled into Boba as much as he could, contoured his body so it fit perfectly against Boba._ _

__Boba managed to slide one arm under Din so he could hold him, could secure him to his side._ _

__He loved the feeling of Din sinking into him, the softest parts of Boba giving way to a more intense slotting together, more skin and more contact points and more of that _heat_ he'd forever associate with Din._ _

__And if, in the morning, Din _did_ stay, Boba knew even Tatooine's twin suns would feel cold in comparison the the fire that was Din._ _


End file.
